


Broken

by impalaloompa



Series: Spideypool Tumblr Prompts [15]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Grief, Grieving, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, LOST References, Lost spoliers, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, Mood Swings, Suicidal Thoughts, anger issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaloompa/pseuds/impalaloompa
Summary: “Peter I’m telling you now,” Nate gruffed as if he had read the expression on Peter’s face, “Leave Wade alone. Nothing good ever comes out of being around Wade Wilson.”
Spideypool AU - Peter is admitted to a mental hospital where he meets Wade Wilson. Barely even able to keep himself together, how will he cope when taking on Wade's burden too?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said - Hi! If it's not too much trouble, may I ask for a story where Peter is admitted to a mental hospital where he meets Wade, who believes that superheroes exist and that Peter is one of them

Peter wasn't quite sure what time it was. He wasn't sure what day it was, or month. But he was pretty sure the year was still 2016.

He had concluded that it was day time, considering the hazy sunlight filtering through the blinds of the Doctor's office. It was probably morning still. He hadn't had lunch yet, but then again, if he had, he wouldn't remember what it was.

He shuffled slightly in the uncomfortable chair and let his gaze wander over his Aunt who was busy talking to the Doctor.

Poor Aunt May, he sighed to himself, she shouldn't have to deal with this crap. 

He knew he should be listening to the conversation but he just couldn't bring himself to care. 

He didn't do a lot of that these days. Care. About anything. Not about his college work, not about his internship at Stark Industries, not about his photography job for The Daily Bugle, not about the maintenance of his apartment, not about feeding himself or looking after himself, nothing. 

How can you care when all you feel is empty inside?

He let his gaze wander and the picture on the Doctor's desk caught his attention. The Doctor, a black haired man with round glasses and a lopsided smile, with his arm around a pretty, petite woman and a boy, around the age of ten with the same facial structure as the Doctor but with the woman's eyes and mouth, stood in front of them. A nice little family.

Anger flared in his chest and he had to bite his lip to control himself. Why does everyone get to be happy except me? Why can't I have what I want too?

"And how long did you say this has been going on for?" the Doctor questioned his Aunt. His eyes were kind and his voice gentle. Peter silently thanked him for trying not to make this harder on Aunt May than it already was.

"About seven months now," May sounded tired and fragile, "ever since she died."

Peter started blankly at the patch of threadbare carpet beside his chair, desperately trying to drown his Aunt out by singing 'O When The Saints' in his head.

"This would be Gwen, am I correct?" the Doctor tilted his head slightly.

May nodded.

"He took her death hard, such a tragic accident,” May took a shaky breath then continued, “When my husband died, just over two years ago, Peter struggled to cope with the grief. He...he blamed himself you see, and he...he hasn’t quite been the same since, and losing Gwen, well…”

The Doctor was nodding slowly, eyes clouded with sympathy. Peter was chewing the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the aching in his heart.

“Mrs Parker, what your nephew is suffering from is called Complicated Grief Disorder, which is also known as traumatic or prolonged grief. This is when the symptoms of grief, which as you have explained to me Peter definitely has - powerful pining for the deceased, great difficulty moving on, a sense that life is meaningless, depression, and bitterness or anger about the loss, continues for six months or longer,” the Doctor paused to gage May’s reaction.

Aunt May just blinked at him. 

“Now, there are treatments, courses of antidepressants, things we can do to work with you so that you can take Peter home, however, I would prefer to keep him here, just for a few weeks, for observation and treatment and we can suit him to a good psychiatrist to get him on the path to recovery,” the Doctor offered a weak smile as he waited for May to answer.

A rush of anger bubbled in Peter’s chest. Stop talking about me like I’m not here, he wanted to shout, what about what I want?

But you can’t get what you want, a little voice in the back of his mind snarked, you only lose everything.

He folded his arms across his chest and glared murder at the photograph.

“Whatever you think is best Doctor,” May sighed, defeated, “I just want him to get better.” 

“Of course. There are a few forms to go over with you and then we can get Peter settled and-”

Peter tuned out the rest of what the Doctor was saying and let his thoughts drift. It was getting more difficult to separate actual memories of Gwen from dreams he had had during fevered nights but he liked losing himself in them just the same. He wished he could just stay in his own head where he could be with Gwen and be happy and peaceful, where nothing was too harsh or painful or...or real. Because the reality, that Gwen was gone, was just too much for him to bare.

His Aunt was standing, shaking hands with the Doctor, thanking him, Peter was dimly aware of her hand on his shoulder.

The Doctor turned to him and Peter forced himself to meet his gaze.

“Welcome to The Oscorp Psychiatric Hospital Mr Parker.”

***

May had cried as she said good bye to Peter. He knew he should have reassured her, he knew he should have hugged her and told her he loved her but nothing would come. He just stared blankly as she turned away and left him in the care of a female Doctor.

He was pretty sure the Doctor had told him her name but all could remember was that it sounded russian. He was too busy adding May’s sorrow to the ever growing pit in his stomach. 

The Doctor was professional and thorough with her health check. Her hands were warm and gentle, her voice oddly soothing. Peter couldn't help but notice her flaming red hair and fierce eyes though.

He had been given a set of pale blue scrubs and he shirked them on begrudgingly, whilst being assure that his civilian clothes would be stored for him. 

The Doctor offered him a consoling smile as she lead him out of the medical room and down a clinically white corridor.

Every footstep was difficult, an effort, and he would rather just curl up in a ball and never move again.

He followed her slowly, not taking in his surroundings, just keeping his eyes fixed on her marching feet.

“Ah, Peter,” the black haired Doctor appeared in front of them, kind smile lighting up his face, “And how is our newest patient Doctor Romanov?”

Romanov, right. He knew it was something russian.

Doctor Romanov cast him a glance before saying, “Over all, in okay physical condition, a little underweight, he was cooperative, if unresponsive to verbal stimulation but I have no immediate concerns to add to his case file.”

“Good good, thank you Doctor. I will take him from here,” the black haired Doctor dismissed her.

“Doctor Banner,” she gave him a curt nod as she strode past.

Banner. Peter looked at the Doctor with a frown. Why didn’t he remember that? He’d only been consulting with the guy for the past three days.

“Come this way if you would Mr. Parker,” Doctor Banner invited him to follow and Peter shuffled after him.

The Doctor was babbling on about the facilities and routines and the state of the art blah blah blah, Peter couldn’t care less. He just wanted to be left alone.

Finally the Doctor stopped and Peter almost crashed into the back of him.

“Your room. 46B,” Banner opened the door and Peter peered around him to glimpse into the room.

There was a single bed against the far wall. A table and a chair in the corner. A small television bracketed to the end wall. A door which he assumed was the bathroom. A large bay window on the wall opposite the TV letting in lots of light. 

Huh, he thought to himself, it could be worse. At least I can be alone here.

“We can bring you books and drawing materials, puzzles, cards, posters, anything you like to make the room your own,” Banner had his hands buried in his lab coat pockets, “I’ll give you an hour to settle in and then I’ll show you the day room.”

“But,” Peter was quick to protest, eyes wide and pleading, “I just want to be alone.”

“Peter, an integral part of your recovery is interacting with the other patients. Forming social connections with other people can only heal what has been broken. I don't expect you to be there all the time. This isn't a prison. You can come and go as you please but I would like you to spend some time there okay?” the Doctor gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, “One hour Peter, and then I’m taking you to the day room.”

Peter watched Banner leave and narrowed his eyes at his new room.

“Fuck,” he seethed.

***  
The day room was a large, open square space with a TV, a few couches, plenty of tables and chairs, a shelf full of board games and books and sliding doors which open onto a neat decking with a view of the grounds.

There were several patients already there when Peter arrived and none of them gave him any notice.

Maybe I can still be alone here, Peter mused.

“So the day room is accessible any and all times of the day except after 9.30pm when lights go out and you’re required to stay in your room until the morning,” Banner explained.

Peter cast a glance at the Doctor then back at the room.

“Breakfast, lunch and dinner are all served in the dining hall,” Banner pointed down a corridor that lead away from the day room, “But meals can be taken to your room if you prefer,” he added with a reluctant sigh. Good, thought Peter.

“No eating in the day room, or any time other than set meal times as it can interfere with medication schedules. When family and friends come to visit, they can come to the day room too, however there are private rooms for visitors if you prefer,” Peter nodded to confirm he was listening. 

“Doctors, nurses and orderlies pass through the day room regularly so if there is a problem you can speak to one of them, or you can come to my office, or your psychiatrist's office when we appoint you one. We have an open door policy here for patients,” Banner rubbed his chin absently.

Peter just wanted him to leave so that he could sit at the table in the corner, by himself and not have to deal with any of this.

“You’re going to be fine here Peter,” the Doctor smiled reassuringly at him, “We all just want to help you.”

Good for you, Peter grumbled.

“Now, I must leave you to it,” Banner turned to leave but before he took a step he said, “Oh. Nathan.”

A patient perched at the table nearest to them rose to his feet. He was a big guy. Tall, bulky. His left eye was close with a strange scar marring the flesh around it. Peter quickly notice the prosthetic arm and leg and he couldn't help the swell of awkwardness that rose in his stomach as he tried to focus on the man’s face rather than anything else.

“Nathan Summers,” Banner grinned, “Nate, this is Peter. He’s a new patient here. Show him the ropes?”

“Sure thing Doc,” Nate rumbled.

Double fuck, Peter cursed.

The Doctor whisked away, leaving Peter in the unwanted company of this large man.

“So,” Nate studied him with his good eye, “I don't reckon you want to be here, am I right?”

“Here with you? Here in this room? Here in this hospital? Here on this fucking planet? Be specific,” Peter growled.

“I see,” Nate nodded knowingly and sat back down in his chair.

Peter flumped down in the chair opposite him and glared at the floor.

“We’re all dealing with our own crap,” Nate said, “and the Doctor wants to help. Make it easier on yourself and do what he asks? If he wants you to spend time here in the day room, you spend time in the day room. I’ve seen too many people slip further and further away because they resisted the help being offered to them.”

There was something strange about this man, Peter thought to himself, some vibe that he was more beyond his years.

“I’m not gonna ask why you’re here. Thats your business. In time you may share but like I said, we’re all dealing with our own crap,” Nate rested his elbows on the table.

Peter forced himself to look away from the prosthetic arm and he took in the room instead, trying to familiarise himself with it without having to get up.

There were patients playing snakes and ladders and watching the news on the TV. There were patients reading and sorting cards. But one patient caught his eye. A bald man. Sitting by himself at the table by the window, a chess game set up in front of him. He seemed to be playing it, and laughing at the empty seat opposite him.

Then Peter noticed the scars. Lacing and patterning every inch of exposed skin. Some areas looked sore, others looked dry and itchy. Peter couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips.

Nate cocked his head to see where he was looking then frowned.

Peter turned back to Nate, mouth gaping, all of his pains and sorrows forgotten as curiosity surged through him.

“Who-what happened to him?” Peter asked.

Nathan suddenly looked uncomfortable but he sighed and said, “That's Wade Wilson. Wade uh...a few years back Wade was diagnosed with cancer. He was entered into an experimental drug treatment and well...it reacted badly with his cancer, slowing it down but scarring him both physically and mentally. I’m serious Peter. Wade is a very ill man and his mental state is in constant flux. It’s better to give him a wide berth. He...he has this obsession, a belief really that superheroes exist and that this mental hospital is some sort of conspiracy formed by a villain. He thinks some of us in here are superheroes or spies or something and that we’re undercover to unearth the conspiracy.”

Peter looked back at Wade who was busy using a pawn to batter a rook. It stirred something in Peter’s chest. There was just...something about him, and Peter wanted, no, needed to know more.

“Peter I’m telling you now,” Nate gruffed as if he had read the expression on Peter’s face, “Leave Wade alone. Nothing good ever comes out of being around Wade Wilson.”


	2. Chapter 2

He had retired to his room early. Not wanting to join the others for dinner. He wasn’t hungry, and he’d had enough of Nathan’s inconsistent mixture of pep talks, strangely wise comments and cynical, pessimistic outlook on life. He would wonder what the guy’s deal was, but he didn't care. 

Peter perched himself on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face in his hands. Someone had placed a Stephen King novel on his desk. He had no intention of reading it but it reminded him to get in contact with his Aunt to ask her to send him some stuff from his apartment. Anything to make the room more homely, more his.

Doctor Banner had prattled on long enough about the benefits of a familiar environment to help aid the recovery process, so he had decided to humor the man, at least for now.

He laid back on the bed, stretching out and closing his eyes. He was finally alone. 

Now he wasn't being distracted, the familiar ache in his chest was more unbearable but he welcomed it. Pain was the only thing he had left to remind him that he was still alive, even though he often wished that he could be dead. It would be easier, just to end it all, his suffering, but he couldn't do that to his Aunt. He just couldn’t.

He opened his eyes to look at the ceiling when something in the corner of his vision caught his attention and he sprung up to a sitting position, head snapping round to see what it was. There was nothing there. He was alone.

For a second he thought that he had seen… but no, that’s crazy. It couldn’t possibly have been her and yet, Peter could’ve sworn that he could smell the lingering scent of her perfume. 

“Oh Gwen,” he bit his bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood as tears threatened to leak from his eyes. 

He palmed his forehead and tried to push down the bile rising in his throat. 

You’re crazy Peter, he scolded himself, just look where you are now.

There came a tentative knock on his door and he wiped at his eyes furiously before saying, “come in.”

“Mr Parker?” a young woman’s head peered round the door.

She stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind her. She was dressed in a smart grey suit and her ginger hair was tied in a simple braid down her back. A spray of freckles littered her nose and cheeks and her blue eyes were soft and kind. She carried a clipboard and a brown paper bag.

“My name is Doctor Potts and I’ve been assigned your case,” she smiled.

Peter watched her warily as she drew the chair from the table and brought it round so she could sit in front him, at a respectable distance, not too intrusive, Peter thought.

“I have been a practising psychiatrist here for about five years now. I just wanted to come and introduce myself. I was going to do it at dinner,” she held out the paper bag, “please eat Peter. You’ll feel better for it.”

He took the bag and peered inside. There was a ham sandwich neatly arranged at the bottom.

He swallowed hard and scrunched the top of the bag again then placed it beside him.

“Maybe later, thanks,” he said, monotone.

Doctor Potts quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t insist. Instead she pulled a pen from her pocket and raised her clip board.

“My job here is to help you Peter, to listen, advise where I can. To help you think about things in different ways and overcome issue and problems. We will progress at your own pace, as and when you are ready. You can be completely honest with me Peter. I’m not here to judge or preach or tell you what’s right and wrong. Anything you say to me will be held in the strictest of confidence. Confidentiality is not only important and legally required, it also builds respect and trust between Doctor and patient, and I want you to trust me Peter. I’m not here to be your friend but I hope we can build a good relationship to provide you with the best care,” she spoke slowly and clearly, ensuring that Peter understood every word.

Peter nodded. He liked Doctor Potts. Something about her breathed authority and control. She seemed like a very down to earth person and Peter could appreciate that. He sure as hell wasn’t anywhere near earth right now, more like orbiting saturn.

Doctor Potts scribbled something down on her clipboard at his silence and then met his gaze with steady eyes.

“Please Peter. I want you to tell me about Gwen,” she tilted her head slightly, inviting him to talk when he was ready.

A lump formed in his throat. He grit his teeth and curled his arms around himself.

“I don’t want to talk about Gwen,” he hissed.

“Peter the first step to overcoming your grief is to talk about the person you lost. Not about her death and dealing with it. That comes later. Just now, something little, like her favourite colour or what she liked to wear. Let’s build a picture of her together shall we?” Doctor Potts was encouraging, kind, trying to get him to open up, but that’s the last thing he wanted.

He already had a picture of Gwen in his mind and he didn’t need this woman probing at it.

He clenched his jaw and focused his gaze on the wall behind her head.

He didn’t miss her little sigh and a flash of triumph made his lips twitch as she rose to her feet and made for the door. 

“Thank you Peter. I will arrange another appointment with you soon,” she blinked at him before disappearing through the door. 

And he was alone again, with nothing but his churning thoughts and aching heart to keep him company.

***

He was back in the day room, after avoiding breakfast, and was pretending to listen to Nathan who was arranging a checkers board.

At first his mind had been on Gwen, as it often was but it had quickly focused on Wade as the man had settled himself at the table near the window and was drawing something with crayons.

That curiosity was back, forcing its way in and consuming him. He didn’t know why. Wade wasn’t his business. He didn’t care and yet, he wanted nothing more than to talk to him, like there was something about him drawing him in. 

“Peter!” Nate sounded annoyed.

“Does he always sit there?” Peter asked absently, eyes still on Wade.

“Yeah,” Nate gruffed, “and you shouldn’t stare, it makes they guy uncomfortable.”

“I’m not staring,” Peter protested, finally giving Nathan his attention, “I’m...watching.”

“Why is he on his own?” Nate’s eye twitched.

“Because he’s crazy, okay? I’ve already told you to leave him. The guy has suffered enough without your curious nose poking around in his life,” he snapped.

Peter couldn’t help but feel that there was more going on with Nate than just ‘looking out for him.’ Something that he wasn’t telling him.

Peter glanced back at Wade only for his gaze to be met with bright, chocolate brown eyes. His breath hitched and he could feel his face reddening with heat. Wade cracked a toothy smile then looked back down at his drawings.

What the hell? Peter thought to himself.

“So have you been appointed a psychiatrist yet?” Nate was looking out the counters.

“Uh, yeah,” Peter tore his eyes from Wade and watched Nathan push the black pieces towards him, “Uh Doctor Potts.”

“She’s good. I had her last year but she passed my case to Doctor Osborne when she took on Wade’s. Brave of her to do so. Not many shrinks would touch Wade’s case with a thirty foot pole,” Nate arranged his counters on the board.

So we share the same psychiatrist huh? Maybe Doctor Potts and I do have a few things to talk about.

***

Peter had opted for the private visitors room for Aunt May’s first visit. He didn't particularly want Nathan earwigging into his conversation. Since Doctor Banner had asked him to ‘show Peter the ropes’ the guy barely gave him a moment to himself.

He settled into the soft chair at the table and drummed his fingers on the hard wood. 

He was nervous to see his Aunt. It had been four days since she had left him here and he hoped that she wasn’t expecting a miraculous difference in him. He was just pleased that he hadn't slept in past noon today, as was his usual habit.

The door opened and Aunt May stepped through.

“Peter,” she squeaked and before he had time to rise properly to his feet, she had wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, “Oh I’ve missed you.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

She let him go and he slunk back into his chair as she sat down opposite him.

“I know dear, it’s just...the thought of you in here,” she shook her head.

Peter squirmed internally.

“So how are things? Tell me everything,” she tried to take his hands across the table but he slid them onto his lap and tried to ignore the guilt at her hurt expression.

“Not much to tell,” he shrugged.

“Doctor Banner tells me you have a psychiatrist now?” she pushed.

“Sure,” again, he shrugged. He felt bad that he couldn’t offer her anything more but he didn't have the energy for this conversation, and he knew he shouldn’t but all he wanted to do was go back to his room and curl up on his bed. 

The disappointment in May’s face hurt more than he would have liked so he decided to throw her a bone.

“There’s this guy. A patient here. People keep telling me not to bother with him, to leave him alone. He’s pretty messed up but I don’t know...he’s always on his own and I kinda want to talk to him,” he said.

“Of course Peter,” her smile said it all, “of course you should talk to him. He must be lonely, like you (that's not what I meant, Peter seethed) it would be good for you to talk to him. It might help you.”

His quick smile was almost a sneer but she didn't seem to notice.

“It might help him,” he bit his lip, “I don’t know. I just have this feeling.”

“Well I think you should go for it,” May beamed, “You never know, you might even make a friend.”

Bless her, Peter mused, always worried, always concerned about me.

It was decided. He was going to talk to Wade. Screw Nate and his warnings and screw the consequences, whatever they may be.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days since his Aunt had come to visit and he was finally free of Nathan.

The guy was currently in session with his psychiatrist so Peter had about two hours of alone time, except he didn’t intend to spend it alone.

He had forced himself to have a few mouthfuls of mac and cheese for his lunch, only because he had been under the watchful eye of Doctor Potts, and it was sitting heavy in his stomach as he hovered by the couch in the day room, waiting for Wade to appear.

Peter had tried to spot him in the dining hall but Wade hadn’t eaten lunch with the other patients. 

He was surprised by the tingle of nerves tightening his gut, which was followed by a sharp intake of breath as he reaslied the last time he had been nervous, he had been around Gwen.

The last time he had been anything was around Gwen and he closed his eyes as the fresh wave of pain threatened to empty his stomach.

His hands had started to shake and he pulled himself from his memories before anyone noticed.

Peter inhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair. 

He’d been standing there for fifteen minutes now and still no Wade. He was acutely aware that he was running out of time before Nathan came back. 

He chewed his lip, trying to work out what to do when he caught sight of an orderly with a patient just down one of the corridors leading off of the day room.

Peter sucked in a breath, trying to draw courage from the air and marched towards the orderly. His heart was hammering in his chest as he approached and he had to swallow a few times to stop his throat becoming dry.

The patient noticed him and she flashed him a small smile. She tapped the orderly on the shoulder and then pointed to him. The orderly cast him a quick glance.

He turned back to the patient and communicated something to her in sign language. Her smile broadened and she gestured back. 

Peter paused, trying not to feel awkward as the patient moved away and the orderly gave him his full attention.

“Hey there, you okay?” the orderly asked him, “It’s Peter right? I’m Clint.”   
Peter flushed as his words tangled with his tongue but the orderly just tilted his head slightly, giving him time to gather himself.

“Sign language?” Peter heard himself say, “She uh, she deaf?”

Clint chuckled.

“Yeah, sign language and no. She’s not deaf,” the bemused sparkle in his eye confused Peter for a second until he noticed the hearing aid nested in Clints ear.

“Oh,” Peter breathed, “sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it kid. An easy mistake to make,” there was nothing but kindness in Clint’s expression and Peter felt himself begin to relax, “I taught her actually. I think it helps with her condition, and her psychiatrist encourages it so…”

Peter nodded.

“I uh, I wanted to ask you if you’ve seen Wade,” Peter tried to make himself sound disinterested as if the patient’s location was just trivial to him.

Clint quirked his eyebrows in surprise but before he could ask why, there came loud, obnoxious singing from behind Peter in the day room.

“I reckon he’s in there,” Clint smirked.

Peter thanked him and quickly left the orderly to scurry into the day room. 

He peered round the corner, trying to control the twisting in his gut.

Wade was sitting at his usual table by the window, paper strewn across the surface and crayons littering the space by his elbow, now humming what was supposed to be a rendition of Living On A Prayer.

Peter bit his lip. Now or never, he told himself.

He approached Wade’s table slowly, heart thrumming in his chest. He couldn’t understand why he was like this. Wade was just a guy, and yet...there was just something about him. Something that enticed curiosity and nerves and the sudden need for social interaction, which he had shunned where he could since Gwen’s death, but he just felt like he needed to talk to this man. 

Peter stood behind the chair opposite Wade. He cleared his throat.

Wade looked up and the confusion and shock that passed over his face twisted Peter’s heart.

“Can I uh, sit here?” Peter asked.

Wade’s slanted mouth twitched into a smile, his brown eyes lighting up.

“Of course,” he beamed, “But I don’t know why someone like you is bothering with someone like me.”

“Someone like me?” Peter questioned as he sat down at the table.

“You know, a superhero!” Wade rolled his eyes as if were obvious, “You’re all very concerned with secret identities but you can’t hide from me. I know.”

Peter cocked his head, showing that he was listening.

“I hoped you would come. It’s been awhile since another hero joined the battle,” Wade nodded knowingly.

“And who is it that you think I am?” Peter asked before he could stop himself.

“You’re Spider-Man,” Wade was suddenly serious and leaning across the table to whisper, “You’re my favourite.”

The earnest, childlike excitement in Wade’s eyes, Peter couldn’t help but smile. The tightness in his body released and he suddenly felt light. He could tell that Wade firmly believed what he was saying and it was refreshing to have someone speak their mind rather than tip toe around him.

Wade looked down at his drawing, then after a pause he looked back up at Peter. That confusion and shock flitted across his face again.

“You’re still here?” he sounded surprised.

Peter could imagine that other people didn’t stick around for long and his heart went out to Wade. 

He nodded, trying to keep his smile friendly.

“We have the same psychiatrist,” Peter said, trying to find conversation, “I wanted to meet another of her patients.”

“Ha she’s a good one is Pepper Potts but she’s not all that she seems,” Wade still seemed guarded, unsure, and Peter had the sudden want for this man to trust him.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, she’s secretly here on SHIELD business because Iron Man needs to know what’s going on in here,” Wade said as he continued to scribble on his paper.

Peter was more intrigued rather than confused. 

“SHIELD? Iron Man?” he shuffled in his seat, leaning in a little closer so Wade understood that he had his attention.

“Tony Stark. He works for SHIELD,” Wade narrowed his eyes at his drawing.

Tony Stark. CEO of Stark Industries where Peter had been an intern in one of the labs. That Tony Stark?

Peter could immediately tell that this delusion of Wade’s was so complicated, so intricate, it would take him a long time to fully understand and unravel the depths of it. He couldn’t imagine the horrors Wade had been through for his mind to have broken so much, for him to have immersed himself in such a fanciful and impossible world.

He found himself tracing the scars on Wade’s arms with his eyes, tracking them as they marred his flesh in interlaced patterns.

He suddenly became aware of Wade’s eyes on him and he felt himself going red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

He lifted his eyes to meet Wade’s and when hazel met brown, his heart skipped a beat. Wade didn’t look offended or upset or even defensive. He just looked bewildered.

“They don’t bother you? Repulse you?” Wade blinked at him.

Peter shook his head. It was the truth. They didn’t. He was actually fighting the urge to reach out and touch Wade’s arm.

A silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable but a calm, peaceful quiet. Then Wade broke it by saying ,”So where’s Cable today?”

“C-Cable?” Peter struggled to understand.

“Nate,” Wade clenched his jaw, “He’s from the future you know. Priscilla and his fucking god complex.”

There was bitterness in his remark and now Peter was certain that something had happened between Nate and Wade.

“He’s with his psychiatrist,” Peter told him, not wanting to dig into the subject and push Wade away. 

Wade nodded and took a moment to study Peter. Peter tried to keep still and indifferent under Wade’s searching eyes, but his insides were squirming.

“You seem like a good kid Spidey. What story did you spin to get yourself in here? What’s your ‘damage’?”

Peter knew that he was talking about his conspiracy thing but Peter didn’t want to talk about Gwen. He averted his gaze and dug his nails into his palms.

“Sure, sure. Not my business. You heroes are all up in your secrets,” Wade grinned.

Peter let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding and forced himself to smile. 

“Oh look, there goes Doctor Banner,” Wade nodded in the direction of the Doctor who strode through the day room and disappeared down another corridor, “He’s always coming through here.”

“I like him,” Peter found himself saying.

“Me too. He’s one of the good guys, but you really don't want to see him angry,” Wade whistled through his teeth.

“Why? What happens when he gets angry?” there was a playful expression on Peter’s face.

Wade handed him a drawing. Filling the page was a childish, green crayon picture of a rather muscular and pissed off looking man. 

“He Hulks out,” Wade stated matter-of-factly.

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smile and he went to push the drawing back to Wade when Wade said, “Oh no, you keep it. A reminder of the battle yet to come.”

Peter couldn't help the constricting of his gut at Wade’s ominous words but he also couldn’t help the goofy smile spreading across his face.

Wade is nuts, Peter thought to himself, but maybe that's okay.

***  
The only way for Peter to make it more obvious that he wasn’t listening to Nathan bitch about his psychiatrist would be for him to get up and leave the dinner table.

He was prodding his potatoes with his fork, not eating, not caring about not eating, just wishing he had decided to skip dinner altogether and stay in his room.

As much as he had enjoyed spending time with Wade, he was exhausted, drained, and seriously considering jamming his fork in Nate’s good eye.

“Osborne is such a quack sometimes,” the large man grumbled, “He want’s to bring in another specialist to-”

Peter didn’t care. His thoughts were on the Hulk picture he had sellotaped to the wall in his room. 

It was strange but having it there, something solid that hadn’t come from him and his dark, churning mind, it seemed to lift things slightly, to remind him that he wasn’t on his own, that he didn’t have to face this alone, that he had help. Doctor Banner, Doctor Potts, all of them wanted to help and Wade, something told him that he had Wade now too.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter woke with a start, eyes bleary, body shaking, the images from his dream still clinging to his mind.

As his breathing evened out and the dream faded, it took him a moment to work out where he was, and why he was alone.

And then the grief hit him anew as the painful absence of Gwen brought tears to his eyes. 

In dreams it was easy to pretend that she was still with him, that they were still together and that they were happy. In dreams he wasn't hurting or exhausted or suffering.

He missed her warmth, her solid presence in the bed beside him. He missed feeling her against him as he curled his arms around her and buried his nose in her neck. He missed her gentle caresses and her smell and her safety. God he missed how still and calm and safe it was when he was with her.

He couldn't bare to look at the empty bed beside him as tears slid down his cheeks and his breath hiccuped in his chest.

In the dark, his room looked so vastly bare, like he was staring into the void, at nothingness, at the shell of what his room used to be back in his apartment.

That's what he felt like. That he was just a shell of his former self. Fragile and empty and just waiting for life to break him.

He couldn't take another moment so he threw himself from his bed, wobbled over to the door and left his room.

He paused for a moment.

The corridor was grey and gloomy, the only light came from the flood lights outside as their beams of yellow illuminated the windows.

He wasn't supposed to be out here. There was a curfew in place for a reason, but he couldn't bring himself to go back into his room. Not yet.

Peter moved slowly down the corridor towards the day room, bare feet cold on the linoleum flooring.

The hospital looked very different at night and Peter found that he quite liked it. He liked the quiet and the cool and the feeling that he owned this time. That the night was his, he was in his element, it felt natural and oddly powerful. 

He picked up his pace, confidence rising. His head felt clearer, the ache in his chest settling to that familiar dull throb.

He could be alone here, in the dark. Truly alone, away from Doctors and the other patients and Nathan and his hollow thoughts. Away from the constant reminder that he was in fact, in a mental hospital, that he was in here for a reason and that the outside world saw him as nothing other than crazy.

But a niggling voice in the back of his head said but you don't want to be alone. Not really.

He expected another wave of grief for the images of Gwen flashing behind his eyes but to his surprise, he only saw brown eyes and scarred skin and crayons and superheroes.

He knew he should feel guilty for not thinking about Gwen, for letting someone else grace his thoughts, but the guilt didn't come. The fluttering in his lower stomach was the furthest feeling from guilt he could imagine. 

It was new and unexpected and different and Peter welcomed it. 

He arrived in the day room and basked in the open, empty space.

No, it wasn't empty. There was someone standing in the corner by the shelf.

Peter's pulse quickened and he was in two minds weather to stay or run. Then something familiar about the person's stance rooted him to the spot.

Wade?

No, definitely not Wade, cold dread pitted his stomach as the figure moved out of the shadows towards him revealing a young male Doctor, about the same age as Peter, draped in a white lab coat and a grim expression masking his face.

"I did wonder if you would take a midnight stroll at some point. Most of the new patients do," the Doctor held out his hand, "Doctor Harry Osborne."

Peter took Harry's hand and shook it warily.

"Right, Norman Osborne's son. Uh, Peter. Peter Parker."

"I know," a smile twitched the Doctor's lips but his face quickly set again. 

Oscorp was founded and run by Norman Osborn, famous for their work in genetic advances and even military science, Osborn had invested in a few psychiatric institutions as well. He was often on the news and Peter felt the slightest flash of awe as he stood in the great man's son's presence.

"I'm sorry," Peter sputtered, "I know I shouldn't be out of my room but I-"

"Don't worry about it," there was a friendliness to Harry's absent hand gesture, "Just don't do it again."

Peter nodded, ready to retreat back to his room when Harry's firm hand rested on his shoulder. He tried not to flinch at the touch and forced himself to look into Harry's dark eyes.

"I've noticed you spend a lot of time around Nathan Summers," Harry's tone had Peter's chest tightening, "As his psychiatrist, I'm not at liberty to divulge any information about his case, however I will tell you this. Be careful around him Peter. Nate has a tendency to ah, get possessive of people. It's one of the many issues he struggles to deal with. There have been several incidents where he has even become violent," Harry paused to gaze at Peter's expression, "Just don't give him any reason to need or rely on you. As soon as he feels that he needs you or that he relies on you, his behaviour will change."

Peter was struggling to digest what the Doctor had just told him. It has happened before? Did he mean Wade? Was that what had happened between them?

He burned to ask Harry but he knew he wouldn't get any answers, especially without raising suspicion.

"Well, thank you Doctor," Peter narrowed his eyes at him.

Harry sighed.

"Now back to your room or I'll have to report you," he scowled.

***

Peter searched Doctor Potts expression thoughtfully as she scribbled something down on her clipboard.

He was trying to work out how best to approach the subject of Wade and maintain the illusion of mild curiosity.

He didn't want her to shut down on him and give him nothing, and he also knew that she could never give him enough.

"So you lived with your Aunt for about a year after your Uncle died? Then you moved to a small apartment in Queens?" she glanced at him from under long lashes.

Peter nodded. Her new tactic seemed to be to make him talk about his past. He reckoned she was going to build up to how he met Gwen instead of asking him out right. He was playing ball for now but he wasn't going to give her anything about Gwen. Unless...he managed to persuade her to tell him about Wade. It felt wrong to want to use Gwen as a bargaining chip but it was all he had.

"And how did it feel to move out and have complete independence and freedom?" Doctor Potts poised her pen to scribble notes.

Peter shrugged his shoulders, "Good I guess, a bit scary but I think I needed it."

Her clear eyes studied his face and he suddenly felt like he was being scrutinised, skin prickling, heat rising.

"There's something you want to ask me," it wasn't a question though her tone was laced with a slight curiosity.

Peter swallowed hard. This wasn't how he wanted to do this but she had created the opportunity so he took it.

"Yeah," he dampened his dry lips, "I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about Wade.?"

The Doctor's expression became hard, her lips pursed. Crap, Peter cursed.

"Listen to me very carefully Peter. Wade Wilson is-" she was cut off as an orderly burst into her office, panting hard.

"I'm in session," she snapped.

Peter recognised the orderly as Clint. The man had a sheen of sweat on his brow and his cheeks were flushed red.

"I know I know I'm sorry," he spluttered, "but we need you in the day room. It's Wade."

Doctor Potts was immediately on her feet and striding to follow Clint.

"We will have to continue our session later," she called to Peter over her shoulder.

Peter jumped up and hurried after them, not too close but close enough to hear what they were saying.

"How bad is it?" Doctor Potts asked through a puffed breath.

"Pretty bad. He hasn't had an episode like this in months," Clint grumbled.

A strange feeling was churning Peter's gut as he almost ran to keep up with the hospital staff.

They approached the day room and Peter could hear yelling and shouting.

The Doctor and the orderly marched into the day room and Peter hung back to see what was going on.

Patients lined the walls, seemingly cowering in fear. Wade was standing in the middle of the room wrestling with a Doctor and screaming that he wasn't going to go back, that they'd have to kill him first.

Peter's stomach twisted painfully to see the man so distressed and so...terrified. It was definitely a look of pure terror on Wade's face as more Doctors tried to approach him.

A nurse had managed to grab his left arm and a Doctor helped her to hold it still. Wade fought furiously, snarling and lashing out.

"Get the fucking sedative!" another nurse shrieked.

"No!" Doctor Potts commanding tone rang out over the chaos.

She approached Wade, hands out defensively.

"Wade? Wade it's Doctor Potts," she said, clearly, firmly.

Something registered across Wade's bulging eyes and his struggling lessened slightly.

"Talk to me Wade," she had her hands on his shoulders now and Wade's entire body was shuddering under her touch.

Peter couldn't hear what she whispered to him but Wade suddenly went limp in the the Doctor's and nurse's arms.

"It's okay Wade, you're safe here," Doctor Potts soothed him.

But then Peter saw a Doctor holding a syringe, hovering by the tables, just waiting to see if he was needed. Wade spotted him too.

The wail that rose in his throat was almost inhuman as he jerked wildly in the grasp holding him. Doctor Potts backed away quickly, cursing.

"No no no no," Wade moaned as the syringe Doctor advanced on him.

He fought weekly, exhausted and drained as the Doctor injected the sedative into the base of Wade's neck. 

"I'm sorry Wade," Doctor Potts tucked her arms around Wade, supporting his weight as the Doctor's and nurse restraining him let him go, "I hate having to do this to you."

Wade slumped against her and she nodded to another Doctor. Peter saw that it was Doctor Osborn.

Harry helped her to manoeuvre the unconscious Wade out of the day room.

Peter stood stock still, mind churning, chest constricting. What had just happened? What was Wade so scared of?

He chewed his lower lip, realising that there was much more going on with Wade than he had first thought and that all he wanted to do was to help him. He didn't know how, he just knew that the burning in his chest wouldn't let him rest until he had tried.

"Peter," a voice rumbled behind him. Peter didn't have to turn around to know that Nathan was there.

The man came round to stand beside Peter, arms folded, an almost smug expression etching his face.

"See? I told you that you should stay away from Wade. His insanity knows no bounds," Nate let his eye close as if basking in the moment.

A sudden spark of hatred for Nathan seared through him and he heard himself saying, "Fuck you Nate. What the fuck is your problem with Wade anyway? What the hell happened between you?"

Nate was suddenly invading his space, face so dangerously close to Peter's that he could see the veins in Nate's good eye.

"Nothing good," Nathan spat, "just keep your nose out of Wade's business."

He threw himself away from Peter and stomped away.

Peter was reeling from the exchange. That was not the answer he had been expecting. Nate definitely wasn't trying to protect Wade, more like he was trying to protect himself?

What on earth had Nathan done? What had Wade done? Peter swore to himself that he was going to find out, even if he didn't like where it lead.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter hadn’t played with dominos since he was a kid. There was something oddly satisfying about lining them all up in a neat row and then watching them fall in perfect order. He’d lost track of how many times he had set up little runs only to knock them down again. He supposed there was probably a medical term for this repetitive behaviour but Peter just put it down to the depression spike he had that morning.

He needed something to keep his mind off of...well everything and in the busy day room he had been limited to cards or dominos.

His cynical thoughts concluded that dominos were kind of like life. When one bad thing happens, like being knocked over, it has a knock on effect for everything else until you’re left with nothing but a broken mess. Life, like dominos, can be built up again but all it takes is for one more bad thing and the cycle starts again. And once the dominos start falling there is little you can do to stop them. 

Lots of people were trying to help fix his domino line, Aunt May, Doctor Banner, Doctor Potts, but he was just waiting for that one bad thing to send him back to square one. 

Lost in his dark mood, he hadn’t noticed Nathan sit himself at a table beside him, glancing at him every five minutes like clock work. Not that he cared. Nate could please himself. Peter didn’t want to involve himself with Nate’s issues if he didn’t have to. Nope, there was only one person Peter was interested in and that was Wade. For reasons unknown to him, Wade and his issues were now his business. A small voice in the back of his head told him that he wanted to help Wade so that he didn't have to help himself.

Peter palmed his forehead, wallowing in his confused and tired brain. He lifted his gaze from the newly tipped dominos on the table and forced his eyes to take in the room.

The day room was busier than he had ever seen it, but he put that down to the fact that there were patient’s visitors crowding the space.

There was a slight twinge of jealousy that Aunt May wasn’t here but then again, she had come to see him yesterday, bringing a few of his favourite books, a pillow from his bed, his favourite hoodie (strings removed of course, as was the hospital's safety requirements. Not that Peter would ever consider hanging himself. He hadn’t quite ruled out suicide as a coping method, but hanging was definitely not how he would do it) and a glass-less (again, safety requirements. Glass could be an option) picture frame housing a photograph of Peter and May together. 

She had asked him how he was getting on and that Doctor Banner thought that he was slowly starting to make progress, that he still didn't want to put Peter on medication yet, and that his appointed psychiatrist was optimistic about the outcome of therapy sessions.

She also asked him if he had talked to Wade.

Peter didn't give her much more than the half hearted shrug she was accustomed to receiving from him, though he did talk a little about his first interaction with Wade, albeit in short sentences, which had May smiling. 

It felt good to make his Aunt smile, it had been such a long time, and he promised himself that he would have more stories to share with her the next time she visited.

He managed to muster up the energy to give her a hug before she left, and he could have sworn that her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

But today he was alone, dealing with abstract thoughts about dominos and wondering if Wade ever had any visitors.

He managed to find Wade through the mass of people, sitting where he always sat by the window. He was alone.

Without thinking, Peter rose from his chair, abandoning his dominos, ignoring Nathan’s glare and he weaved his way through the bodies to get to Wade.

As he got closer he noticed that Wade was tense, he looked agitated and he was muttering to himself.

Maybe his episode yesterday has had a knock on effect for today, Peter thought to himself, like dominos.

“Hey Wade,” he announced his presence, “Can I sit?”

Wade cast him a wary glance before nodding. He looked tired. Peter swallowed the swell of sympathy rising in his throat and sat down opposite Wade.

“I don't know,” Wade mumbled to himself, eyes staring off somewhere over Peter’s shoulder, “He came over by himself...what do you want me to do about it?...no I can’t say that...because it’s rude...shut up, yellow was talking…”

“Uh, Wade?” Peter leaned forwards slightly.

Wade’s eyes slipped into focus and rested on Peter’s face, a smile pulled at his lips as if he were just realising that Peter was there.

“Spidey,” he beamed, “Sorry. They’re being a bit loud today.”

“They?” Peter asked, already pretty sure of the answer.

“The voices,” Wade said, completely composed as if it were a normal thing to be talking about.

“I see,” Peter shifted in his seat.

“Great we’ve made him uncomfortable...you told me to tell him the truth...jackass,” Wade grumbled quietly.

“Wade,” Peter said firmly, snapping Wade attention back to him, “How are you today?”

Wade seemed a little confused by the question and it took him a moment to reply. 

“Are you psyching me?” Wade frowned at him.

“No, no I just...never mind. I just wanted to know if you were okay after your episode yesterday,” Peter bit his tongue furiously. Stupid, why did you bring that up?

Wade narrowed his eyes at him.

“I’d be better if the SHIELD agents actually did their job and brought this conspiracy down,” he said.

“SHIELD agents, of course and they would be…?” Peter fished.

“Most of the staffing body, yeah. Not all of them, some work for the Green Goblin but SHIELD are trying to bring him down,” Wade nodded.

Peter couldn’t help but notice the conviction in Wade’s eyes.

“The Green Goblin runs the hospital? Uh, Osborn?” Peter worked out.

Wade was nodding again, this time enthusiastically.

“I don’t know what he’s up to but that’s why you’re here. You and all the other superheroes,” his eyes were wide, expression soft.

Peter found himself wondering what Wade’s skin would feel like if he were to reach out and brush his thumb over his scarred cheek.

Embarrassed by his thoughts, Peter looked away from Wade, trying to control the rapid thumping of his heart.

“No, I’m not asking him that,” Wade suddenly snapped.

Peter jumped and quickly tried to cover the fact by resting his elbows on the table.

“What’s your favourite TV show Wade?” Peter heard himself asking.

Completely taken aback by this random question, Wade’s mouth gaped awkwardly as Peter could practically see the cogs in his brain trying to catch up.

“Uh,” Wade twiddled his thumbs, “Golden Girls.”

A smile spread across Peter’s face.

“Golden Girls. Really?” he could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” Wade grinned, “You don’t get hotties like Bea Arthur any more Spidey.”

Peter let out a laugh, “That’s true. You sure don’t.”

He could see the sparkle in Wade’s brown eyes and a sudden surge of giddy happiness rolled through him. I did that, he told himself, I’m making him smile.

It felt good chatting to Wade, discussing TV shows. It felt natural and it felt real, more so that his life had done over these past months. He found himself being drawn into those eyes, captivated by that smile. For once, his heart didn't seem so heavy.

“Have you seen Lost?” Wade quirked a hairless eyebrow at him.

“Yeah,” Peter had binge-watched the entire series with his Aunt and Uncle one summer.

“Oh my god were the writers on crack or something?” Wade snorted.

“I reckon they just made it up as they went along, like ‘hey guys you know what I think? I think we should have a big ass black smoke monster that kills people. Why? I don’t know man, why the hell not? No but it's actually the island security system, but wait, it’s actually Jon Locke, but no, wait, it’s actually not and it’s some dude from the past who had a major case of sibling rivalry’ I mean seriously,” Peter chuckled.

Wade was laughing now. It was such a good sound, deep and rumbling in his chest. Peter found himself laughing too.

“Oh man,” he gasped, trying to control himself.

Wade was struggling to compose himself again too.

Their eyes met, Peter’s breath hitched in his chest and for a fleeting moment, everything was perfect and he knew that he was going to be okay.

***

Doctor Banner had asked him to come to his office to meet with him. He felt like he was being summoned to the principal's office after ‘accidentally’ letting loose the frogs in biology class., which he totally didn't do that one time

There was a nervous flutter in his lower stomach and his mouth felt dry.

He was welcomed into the room with a friendly smile and offered a drink of water which he gratefully accepted.

He was now sitting in the chair in front of the Doctor’s desk with nothing to hold his attention other than that family photo he hated so much.

He thumbed his tumbler absently as Banner settled himself behind his desk and folded his arms across his chest.

“Relax Peter,” he soothed, “this is a safe place. You’re not in any trouble, though I would like to remind you that patients must stay in their rooms after 9.30 pm.”

Peter swallowed his mouthful of water harder than he intended. So the Doc new about his ‘midnight stroll.’

“Peter,” Doctor Banner folded his fingers under his chin and Peter got the impression that he was regarding him with a more fatherly affection that patient-Doctor relationship, “I’ve taken a particular interest in your case. It’s not often we see one a young as yourself come through our doors. I have been collaborating with Doctor Potts and observing you over this past week,” so I’ve been here a week? Peter thought to himself, good to know, “and do you know what I’ve learned? You have a big heart Peter Parker. It’s not every man that can sit down with Wade Wilson and want to hold conversation with him.”

Peter’s heart clenched in his chest. He was expecting another warning, like he had received from everyone else he had expressed his interest in Wade to, but what the Doctor said next surprised him.

“I feel that it is a good thing. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Wade laugh. I think that forming a relationship with him will benefit you both. I encourage your interactions with Wade and I will inform Doctor Potts to tell you of any necessary information you may need to know to fully understand Wade,” Banner narrowed his eyes, “Understand that this is a rare occurrence. It’s not every day I involve other patients when treating people but Wade has had a rough go of it and I see an opportunity to lessen the strain on him. And it will be good for you to have someone other than a Doctor you can talk to.”

Peter sat in shock. He had definitely heard right, he wasn't dreaming. He stared at the Doctor in bewilderment, trying to wrap his head around what Banner had just told him.

“Uh, thank you?” he managed to say.

“Don’t thank me yet. Lets just see how this goes shall we?” Doctor Banner dismissed him with a friendly nod.

Peter left the office and hurried back to his room. He needed a moment to process everything. 

Banner had been happy about his interest in Wade. He wanted him to help Wade, hoping that Wade could somehow help him too. 

Now there was a new feeling coursing through him. A feeling he hadn’t had for a long time, that he had almost forgotten. A feeling that eased the ache in his heart and burned new purpose through him. A feeling that he had been longing to have, finally showing that there could be a light at the end of his dark, dark tunnel. A feeling of hope. 

And with that, his first domino had been placed.


	6. Chapter 6

“Now understand that I don’t condone any of this,” Doctor Potts addressed him with a scowl, “I think it’s a bad idea and I don’t think it will end well, but Doctor Banner insists so I will tell you what I can about Wade.”

Peter tried not to feel awkward as she neatly arranged herself behind her desk and huffed out a breath before meeting his gaze again.

“I have been Wade’s psychiatrist for a few years now and the one thing that I have learned about him is that on some level, even through his delusions, he does know what’s going on and where he is. He knows that he’s dying of cancer and that his mind is broken. He knows that the other patients here have their own mental health problems. He knows that the Doctors and nurses are trying to help him. But the only way that his mind can process all that is through this multi layered, complex world he has created,” Doctor Potts seemed to deflate slightly and Peter felt a stab of sympathy for her.

“He thinks I’m Spider-Man,” he offered, trying to organise the information he was receiving in his mind.

“Yes,” a small smile quirked her lips, “He has told me about Spider-Man. He thinks very highly of you Peter and he’s at a loss as to why you keep seeking to spend time with him.”

Peter could tell that she was wondering the same thing and all he could do was shrug.

“The experimental treatment Wade underwent nearly killed him. For his sake it probably would have been better if it had,” Peter tried to ignore the ripple of shock at the Doctor’s words, “He has very little memory of his life before the treatment and even less of life after. Every now and then I get pieces, little things he’s remembered but by our next session he’s forgotten them again. His difficulties with his memory frustrate him and it’s one of the things Doctor Banner hopes you can help him with.”

A strange feeling was building in Peter’s gut as the sudden realisation of the challenge and responsibility he had accepted weighed in his chest.

“When engaging him in conversation, Doctor Banner would like you to try and keep things grounded, real. No superhero talk. Wade doesn't need the encouragement. We hope that it will help him to sort out what actually is real for him and maybe bring back memories,” Doctor Potts folded her arms on top of her desk.

“As for how this will help you,” she continued, “The Doctor thinks that you might respond better talking to another patient rather than psychiatrists. He’s noticed how uh, ‘chatty’ you are when in session with me and hopes that you can find common ground with Wade.”

Peter wrapped his arms around himself as he tried to work through everything Doctor Potts had just told him.

It was a lot, and he knew there was more and the tiny voice in the back of his mind told him that he couldn’t do this. 

“Another problem we have with Wade is that, because of the treatment, he has an intense fear of needles. The one thing he does remember and it’s burned into him like a trigger switch. It’s why I am reluctant to use sedatives on him, I don't want to cause him any more distress than he already causes himself, and it also makes giving him pain medication difficult. This is another thing Doctor Banner hopes you can help with,” she sighed heavily. 

Peter knew that she thought that this was placing a lot on him, that she worried that his already unstable mental state would be affected. He found himself agreeing with her and wanted to shy away from all of this. But he also wanted to help Wade. That certainty was stronger than anything he had felt in a long time and he was going to try.

“Thank you,” Peter whispered.

“Peter,” Doctor Potts was suddenly leaning over the desk, expression serious, eyes intense, “If this becomes too difficult, or you feel yourself slipping or you need help, come to me. I am here and I will do everything in my power to make sure this doesn’t become too much for you. I’m Wade’s psychiatrist but I’m also yours. Your mental well being is more important than Doctor Banner’s social experiments. Promise me that you’ll come to me.”

Peter found himself nodding, conflict raging in his chest. Dealing with his own crazy was one thing but taking on Wade’s too? What was he thinking?

***

Peter was curled up on his bed in his room. It was only 2.20pm but he was tired, drained, and honestly? hiding from Nathan’s incessant need to strike up conversation with him.

He was comfortable and alone, and the idea of slipping into sleep was very tempting. He would dream about Gwen as he always did. Lose himself in the memories. Forget about the waking world and reality and be happy and loved and at peace.

He let his eyes close, feeling the space of his room around him, the crispness of the sheets underneath him. Letting the clean smell drift into the sweet perfume Gwen wore, letting the warmth of the sun spilling through his windows become her embrace, letting the knock at the door-knock at the door?

Peter cracked open an eye. Yup, someone was definitely knocking on his door.

He forced himself to sit up, the cobwebs of Gwen still clinging to his mind.

“S’open,” he called, trying not to let his tone convey his annoyance.

To his surprise, the face that peeked round the door was scarred and inhabiting two large brown eyes.

“Wade,” Peter felt the smile on his lips before he could think about it. His heart suddenly lifted and the last remnants of Gwen that had still been in his mind slipped away.

“Hey Spidey,” Wade matched his smile and opened the door wider.

“How’d you know which room was mine?” Peter asked, mild curiosity lacing his tone.

“I followed you,” Wade cringed, “that sounded creepier than I...I meant that-is this a good time? Are you busy? I can come back in you’re busy,” Wade began making a hasty retreat and Peter felt a pang of fear that Wade was going to leave him alone again.

“No stay,” he said a little too quickly, “Please,” he added, “I’d like it if you stayed.”

Wade’s expression softened and he moved over to join Peter on the bed.

Peter felt the mattress dip under Wade’s weight and he scooted up a bit to give the man a little more room.

Wade was slowly looking around the room and Peter took the chance to drink in his presence.

Having Wade here, in his private space, being this close to him, it felt good, it felt right, and Peter couldn’t place why.

“What you reading?” Wade indicated the book splayed open on his desk.

“Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck,” Peter allowed himself a small smile, “It’s one of my favourites. My Uncle gave it to me.”

He knew Wade wouldn’t understand what that meant to him, but strangely enough, Wade was nodding knowingly.

“Did you want something in particular Wade or just you just come to ask me about my reading habits?” Peter gave Wade a playful nudge with his knee.

A smile flashed on Wade’s face before settling into an unreadable expression. Peter understood that there was something Wade wanted to say, but he didn’t press him, giving him time to feel comfortable enough around him.

“You put up the picture I gave you,” Wade was gazing at the Hulk picture Peter had sellotaped to the wall opposite the bed.

“Of course,” Peter said, sensing Wade’s awe, “A reminder of the battle yet to come.”

As Wade continued to look at the picture, those words settled over Peter like a dark cloud. Wade had been right, but was he talking about Peter’s own battle with his mental health? Or was he talking about the battle he would face helping Wade with his?

Peter studied Wade again, taking in the brightness of his eyes and the scars that laced his skin, disappearing under the collar of his blue scrubs and reappearing down his arms. He couldn’t imagine how much Wade had suffered and how painful his cancer must still be. How disarrayed and muddled his mind was and how Peter’s acceptance was a shock to him.

He could think of all the ways that he himself had been torn and shattered and he could only imagine how much worse everything was for Wade. 

He was going to do this, fight this battle, no matter how hard it was because Wade deserves something good, even if it’s only an attempt to help him, to bring some sort of normality back to his life before his cancer takes it.

But before he could start, he needed Wade to know him. He needed Wade to understand him before they could both move forwards.

“Wade? I need to tell you something. Something about why I’m here,” he said quietly.

Wade turned to look at him.

“To bring down the Green Goblin,” he tilted his head in confusion.

“Yes but...there is another reason I’m in this mental hospital. I’m here to get help,” Peter took a bated breath, seeing that he had Wade’s full attention, “I lost someone. Someone very close to me. Someone I loved. Living without her, it’s been difficult. Painful. Life isn’t worth living. I’ve just been drifting, lost and hurting and...hollow.”

He could feel the corners of his eyes becoming wet and each breath was shaky.

“I need help Wade. And I’m trying very hard to accept it but…” a tear rolled down his cheek and he could feel the sorrow radiating from Wade like a stifling heat. 

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself again. He allowed himself to look into Wade’s eyes and all he saw was concern and sympathy. He choked back a sob as he shuffled himself upright, arms curling around himself, suddenly wishing he could melt into the mattress.

“Spidey?” Wade’s affectionate rumble took him by surprise, “You are so strong. I can see your suffering, I can, and you’re still standing, still fighting. It’s amazing, believe me. Your heart is broken but it's trying. Trying so very hard to keep going. I admire that. I admire you. You have more strength than anyone I know, and not just super strength,” his lopsided grin had Peter breaking out into a small smile, “Your strength of spirit of incredible. Most people would have been destroyed by what you have lost but you’re still here. It’s hard but it will get better. You’ll come away from this just fine. It’s just gonna take some time.”

“Thanks Wade,” Peter wiped at his eyes.

“You’re not the only one who can help people,” Wade’s wink had Peter’s heart fluttering.

Wade rose from the bed, stretched out his limbs and moved over to the door.

“I uh,” Wade glanced at him over his shoulder, “There’s something I gotta go do but I’ll see you around Spidey.”

“It’s Peter,” Peter corrected him..

“Peter,” Wade repeated with a smile and then he disappeared from sight.

Opening up to Wade? That had felt good. He already felt lighter, like a huge burden had been lifted. It wasn’t his secret anymore. 

Wade’s words were still ringing in his head as he looked back at the Hulk picture on his wall.

The battle yet to come. He took a deep breath. He was ready.

***  
Wade hadn't shown up to dinner that night. He didn't appeared at breakfast either. He didn't come to the day room, he didn't turn up for lunch, and it was now approaching dinner time again and there was still no sign of him.

A real worry had settled in his chest and his agitation had been noticed by Nathan who had made it his mission to keep Peter company.

Peter had caved and was in the middle of a scrabble game with him, but only so that his mind had something other to do than make up stories about why Wade was missing. 

Nathan seemed please to have him in his good graces again and he was talking about his life in the army before a bomb blew him half to heck and he landed here with two prosthetic limbs, and bust eye and about a hundred different mental issues to boot.

Peter was only half listening, turning to see when movement in and out of the day room caught his eye.

Nate was blatantly ignoring the fact that his attention was else where and kept going with his newest word on the board.

Peter felt sick to the stomach and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Where’s Wade?” he asked Nathan.

Nate stilled, brow furrowing, lips pulled tight.

“Not here,” the man growled giving the day room a quick glance with his good eye.

“Obviously,” Peter snapped, hands curling into fists, “but where is he?”

“Why do you care?” Nate asked nonchalantly.

“Why shouldn’t I? As a decent human being, I do care,” Peter’s voice had risen. His worry had manifested into anger and he was directing it all at Nathan.

“All I’ve done is try to help you,” Nate shrugged, “I’m decent enough.”

“But not when it comes to Wade,” Peter was now on his feet, leaning across the table, snarling his words, trying to provoke Nate into revealing something, anything about his history with Wade.

“You don't need him, he’s not good for you. I’m good for you. I’ll help you. It’s what I do,” Nathan scowled at him.

“Well I don't want your help!” Peter shouted.

He had drawn the attention of the other patients and a few Doctors were approaching him.

“You don’t want it but you need it. The only thing Wade will do is hurt you Peter. I’m trying to save you,” Nathan’s forced calm was the last straw.

“I don't want to be saved!” Peter shrieked. The rage boiling his blood, burning in his gut. This had been pent up for a long time. Anger at losing Gwen, frustration at not being able to save her. Guilt and pain and a fury so strong it was overwhelming. The added expectation to get better, to help himself and Wade, and now the worry. All bubbling up from under the surface because Nathan Summers had pissed him off.

“I don't want to be saved!” Peter yelled again, “Not by you, not by anyone. No one can help me. I lost her. I deserve to suffer like this.”

“Peter,” a Doctor was by his shoulder, placing a hand on his arm.

Peter twisted away from him, furious tears spilling down his cheeks.

“No. Fuck off. And fuck you Nathan. Fuck you!” 

“Okay, easy there Peter,” a second Doctor was now by his side.

He glare at Nate who seemed to be enjoying his mental breakdown and he suddenly had the urge to punch his stupid, smirking face.

He launched himself across the table, grabbing for Nate who jerked back just in time to avoid his clawing fingers.

Both the Doctors restrained him, pinning him to the table where he struggled and thrashed, crying into the table top.

“Calm down Peter, I don’t want to have to sedate you,” one of the Doctors huffed in his ear.

“Where’s Wade?” he howled, “Where is he? Tell me where he is. Is he okay?”

He went limp, body shaking. The Doctors hauled him to his feet and half carried, half dragged him out of the day room. 

He didn’t care. He felt numb. Also strangely free, as if that outburst of rage was what he needed. But mostly numb.

It took him a moment to realise that the Doctors were taking him back to his room. He let them prop him on his bed, half hearing their “Stay here,” warning, and then he was left alone.

He toppled sideways onto his bed, head bouncing off the pillow, suddenly weary and fatigued. His eyes fluttered shut and he lost himself in a fevered sleep.

***

“Talk to me Peter,” Doctor Potts was nested in his desk chair at the foot of the bed. Peter was curled against the wall, eyes hazy and unfocused, just wanting to be left alone.

“Where’s Wade?” he heard himself ask.

Doctor Potts seemed to pause for a moment before saying, “He’s in the medical sweet. He took a bad reaction to his latest pain medication. He’s okay, just resting.”

“Okay,” Peter breathed, “Thank you.”

“Are you going to talk to me now about what just happened?” she rubbed the back of her neck absently.

“What just happened was that I woke up and you came into my room. Not much to talk about really,” he spoke into the wall.

“You know what I mean, Peter. In the day room,” he felt rather than saw her scowl.

“A game of scrabble gone wrong?” he suggested.

“Peter, I can't help if you wont talk to me,” she sounded desperate.

“Nathan has some issues,” he stuck out his bottom lip as if pondering this.

“True,” she nodded, finally getting somewhere.

“Like with Wade. He’s got some serious issues. I get the feeling that there's more there but no one will tell me anything,” he turned to face her in a last ditch attempt to pry information from her.

“Peter-” her tone told him that she wasn't going to tell him anything either and he turned his head away again.

“Look Peter,” Doctor Potts sighed, “I want to tell you, but I can't. It’s not for me to break patient confidentiality, however…” she bit her bottom lip, “There is someone who might be able to offer you more than I can.”

Peter looked at her again, interest gleaming in his eyes.

The Doctor sighed again and said, “Talk to Doctor Romanov. I know that she was one of the Doctor’s who dealt with Wade and Nathan directly. She might be able to give you something without breaking confidentiality.

Peter nodded his thanks.

Finally. He might finally get to the bottom of this.


End file.
